The Weight of Blood: Chapters 5–11

“What do you mean?” She giggled, feigning innocence.

Jules gave him a smug smirk, puffing her chest.

Her extremities were often cold, and she constantly craved ice chips. All signs of iron deficiency or anemia.

The Black Student Union consisted of half the Black kids at Springville High. Wendy found them somewhat militant in their approach. Not all white people were racist, but BSU sure had a way of making everyone feel like it.

“I don’t condone it! I told her it was messed up!”

Kenny’s morning smoothie curdled in Wendy’s stomach, threatening to bubble up.

“I saw her throw it,” Mrs. Morgan announced, a touch of haughtiness in her voice.

Really, kids need to toughen up these days. How d’you expect them to make it in the real world with all this coddling?

Texas A&M just posted on Twitter...they’re revoking my acceptance.

Mr. Marshall continued berating the principal. “I want the name of every person involved in this, including the girl she allegedly bullied, and I want them now!”

Maddy sat enraptured by her mother's words, reading them over and over, cutting her fingertips on page edges, leaving breadcrumbs of blood throughout the book.

Despite Papa's decree about modern technology, Maddy knew how to use a computer, a requirement for school assignments and access to the class portal.

Maddy's heart raced as she combed through the terms African spiritualist, voodoo, Santería.... But from what she gathered, they used candles, incense, feathers, even dolls to obtain their desired results.

Do you know how much energy she must have used that night? You could siphon it out of the ground, bottle it up, and light up the city of Tokyo.

The intersection of quantum physics, neuroscience, and consciousness...powerful stuff, man.

Did she really think she was beyond reproach? She couldn’t have been that blind. But Jules would never listen to reason in her current state, so Wendy kept her mouth shut.

And yet deep down, behind her spleen, hid the truth: she didn’t want to be Jules. She didn’t want to be the type of person who tormented people without care.

Not saying your work wasn’t good before, but this sudden improvement is, or to someone else, could be perceived as, well, a little inconceivable.

There was an undercurrent to his words. He didn’t mean help you, he meant do it for you.

Now knowing that even he wasn’t absolved from his friends’ ignorance, he could only imagine what Maddy had been through the last six years.

But people had always underestimated him, their preconceived notions based on appearance.

“Um, hey,” she mumbled meekly.

An inconsolable Maddy, wheezing panicked, painful breaths, collapsed into her arms with bloody fingers.

And I know this is going to sound crazy coming from me, but Kenny...he’s different. Real mature for his age. Down-to-earth, thoughtful, focused, and humble—nothing like his friends.

Mrs. Morgan clicked through more videos: two Black teens being pummeled by a surging water hose; a man in his church suit being beaten by a mob; a bleeding girl carried out on a stretcher; German shepherds sinking their sharp teeth into arms and legs; policemen wielding their batons like swords slicing through weaponless marchers.

Even after losing a game, he seemed firmly indifferent and rational about it.

Maddy held the lamp victoriously, glancing up at the various items orbiting her, wondering if the others sat in their homes, belongings wafting about.

The dark room seemed to sparkle, a psychedelic brightness of colors, the silver handle on her brush like a new nickel.

Maddy rushed downstairs, her mind in shambles. The books never mentioned anything about fire. Was it a sign from God?

“Which Negro radical was found to be a communist spy, threatening the security of our nation?”

In truth, it killed her to give up prom, but she hoped her orchestrated efforts would pay off big further down the road, where it really mattered.

She had received a ton of interview requests and hoped she could parlay the opportunities into possible summer internships where she could forge even more connections to help Kenny when he entered the league.

It’s not like she wanted to make Jules mad, she hated the idea of a blow-up happening in front of the entire school. She decided to try to downplay and smooth it all over with a compliment.

The words knocked Wendy’s teeth in. She was used to hearing Jules spit her vitriol. But not at her, never at her. It was the last straw.

Springville's history and politics are a closely guarded secret, with most records sealed, unavailable, or lost in an alleged basement flood. When asked about the siren ordinance, officials placed responsibility on the power plant.

Then out of nowhere, one white girl suggests having a joint prom, and the school board suddenly talking about, 'See? We don't need to implement any changes; prom will solve all our problems.’

Well, Mercury is in retrograde, so the whole world is a little off.

Dating the most popular boy in school (hell, in their whole town), she was used to receiving unsolicited reports of Kenny’s whereabouts.

Her response had to be strategic. Couldn’t seem too shocked or too apathetic, sparking rumors that there was trouble in paradise.

Wendy had been acutely aware of their precarious situation from a very early age, but she never complained. Instead, she swore to herself that she wouldn’t wind up in her parents’ shoes come hell or high water and did what she did best: strategized, playing a long game with an offensive strategy.